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I can. I absolutely can. “You’ll need to say it aloud, if you want me to even consider what you’re offering. A deal must be very explicit. As a businessman, I would need to know exactly what was being offered—and what I was expected to give in return.”
She nods, swallowing hard once more. Her hands wring tightly together. “Alfio Altiere was my patron,” she says calmly, a quiver running ever so slightly through her words. “We met at a party following a ballet showcase.”
“You’re a dancer, then.” I’m not at all surprised to find that I was correct.
She nods again. “For the Los Angeles Ballet. I have the lead in the upcoming showcase.” For all that I know, she’s telling me that to increase her value for someone interested in the arts, as it were, I can hear the hint of pride in her voice—pride that she’s absolutely entitled to.
“That’s quite an accomplishment. But it still doesn’t answer my question. What deal did you and Altiere have?”
She tips up her chin, her gaze defying me to think less of her for what she’s about to say. “He helped with my living expenses—rent and utilities. He paid for my brother’s therapy sessions in full. And in exchange, I was expected to be at his beck and call. For his…pleasure.” She says the last hesitantly, as if she’s hoping that I won’t make her explain further.
“I see,” I murmur. “Were there any limits on this pleasure?”
She squirms ever so slightly in her seat. “No,” she admits.
I have to give her credit for her honesty. She could have easily pretended that there were limits in their relationship, in order to establish those for the deal that she’s trying to make now. She could have claimed that he gave her large sums of money, or extravagant gifts. What she says he gave her couldn’t have amounted to all that much in the grand scheme of things—help with rent and her brother’s therapy—compared to what I suspect a man like Alfio demanded from her.
That honesty, however, tells me that she’s more desperate than she wants me to know. She’s told me the truth because she can’t afford for me to turn her down.
Which, of course, I’m going to do. Of course, I am. Coercing a woman into giving me sexual favors in exchange for necessities is so far beneath me that it’s somewhere beneath the dirt—which coincidentally is where Altiere is, and where he belongs. But god, if seeing her sitting there in front of me, offering me the full extent of my sexual desires—whatever they may be—isn’t doing something to me.
“You’re offering me sex in exchange for money. You haven’t even told me your name.”
Something glitters in her eyes. “Would it matter?”
I let out a slow breath. “It would to me.”
“I—” Her lips press together, and I wonder why she’s hesitating. “Mila Ilenya,” she says finally. “I already know yours.”
“Of course you do. You found me, after all.”
“So?” There’s that hint of defiance in her face and voice again. “What do you say? I’m not suggesting I give up my job. I’ll still work, the way I do now. I just need—some help. My brother’s therapy is expensive. I’ll offer you exactly the same terms that Alfio and I had. Assistance with my living expenses and the therapy paid for, and in exchange, whenever I’m not in the ballet studio or at work, my time is yours if you want it. To—to do with as you like.”
I leap at the opportunity to turn the conversation towards a different topic. “Where do you work? Besides the ballet.”
That glimmer of defiance that lights her eyes again, daring me to think less of her, tells me the answer before she even speaks. “The Rosebud. It’s probably not the sort of place you frequent.”
The Rosebud. In an instant, my cock is straining again, imagining her in lingerie twisting around a pole, most of her lithe, graceful body on display. A flare of inappropriate jealousy follows the surge of lust, as the thought of a roomful of men watching her in that way makes me want to go down to the club and pluck out all of their eyes. I want to see her that way, and no one else.
And I have absolutely no reason or right to feel that way.
I could. If I took her up on her offer. I could be more gracious than Altiere. I could give her enough to ensure that she did quit her job at the club. I could make certain that the only eyes that saw her undressed and lewd were mine.
Whether or not I could live with myself is a different matter.
“I haven’t had the pleasure of going there, no. But I have heard of it.” I look at her, struggling to know what to say. If I tell her no, she’ll leave—likely after trying to convince me a little more—and that will be that. The thought makes me feel something almost like a jolt of panic, and I grit my teeth, frustration coursing through me along with the lust.
“It’s not a difficult bargain,” she says mildly. “I’m not even asking for very much.”
She’s not. And that’s part of the problem. She’s desperate. If I exploit that, I’m no better than Altiere. Aren’t I?
Mila gets up gracefully, before I can say a word. She glides around my desk, stopping at the edge, her gaze flicking over me almost appraisingly. “We can start now, if you like,” she murmurs softly. “If you want a preview of what you’ll get in return.”
She knows I’m on the verge of telling her no. I can hear it in her voice. I don’t know what possesses me to stand up, my pulse throbbing in time with the blood in my cock as I turn to face her.
“You want to make a deal with me?” My voice is low and raspy, and I can’t hide the edge of lust in it. It’s impossible. “Then let’s see if you can follow through on what you’re offering. On your knees, Mila.”
Tell me no. The order is delivered harshly, meant to make her back down. To make her flee. I want to frighten her, to make her rethink this choice, so that she’ll be the one to leave.
